ReporterAdventurer Drabbles
by AccioTintin
Summary: In between writing my Spirou & Fantasio/Adventures Of Tintin crossover fanfiction, I am writing some drabbles too. There will likely be some OC's in here. Read, enjoy, and review, my lovelies c:
1. Chapter 1- Coffee

Fantasio let out a small sigh. His eyes were locked onto a girl across the room, humming as she stacked books onto a shelf. Her name was Ororéa, and she was a exotically beautiful Polynesian girl that Fantasio held a deep attraction for. She finished stacking the books and turned around, a satisfied look in her eyes. She smiled when she spotted Fantasio.

"Hey, Fanta. What are you doing? You look kind of lost." She said, causing Fantasio to turn slightly pink. "Me? Lost? No, I'm just … well, I'm not lost, that's the point." He stammered. Ororéa laughed lightly, brushing down the front of her rose pink, light weight shirt.

Ororéa had shoulder length, dark brown hair, usually with a flower behind her ear. She wore wispy clothes that would billow in the breeze and would be cooling in the hot weather. Her skin was tanned, and her dark eyes were framed by thick lashes.

Fantasio was less of a sight. His weary eyes were blue in colour. His skin was fair, and his hair was blonde and stuck up at the front unevenly. He looked older than he was due to the stress and the pressure he was almost constantly under. There were roughly ten years difference between Ororéa and Fantasio; Ororéa was 23 and Fantasio was 35. That was the problem. Fantasio was too old, too tired, and too _ugly_ for a fierce girl like Ororéa.

"Would you like a coffee or something?" Ororéa offered suddenly, looking at Fantasio with questioning eyes.

"Why? Are you going to make some, or…?" Fantasio asked awkwardly. Ororéa took a step closer, shrugging slightly. "I thought that maybe would could go to a café or something. You know, hang out together."

Fantasio flushed red all the way up to his receding hairline. "S-sure, Ororéa. That'd be great."


	2. Chapter 2- Tintin's Past (1)

"Do you ever think about your family?" Haddock asked quietly. He was sitting on a deck chair, in the yard of Marlinspike Hall with his good friend Tintin. Tintin was silent for a moment, staring at the stars above him.

"Not really, no." Tintin said. Haddock pressed on with, "Do you know anything about them?"

"No. I was raised in an orphanage." Tintin replied, his eyes resting on Haddock's curious expression. "So, tell me about that, then. Or do you not feel comfortable?"

Tintin shrugged calmly. His face was blank and unreadable. "It was okay, I suppose. I mean… I didn't get along with the other kids, to tell you the truth. Or rather, they didn't get along with me. I never had a problem personally with anyone there. It's just that they all thought I was a freak because I never wanted to play, and all I wanted to do was read. I got bullied quite a bit. Pushed into the mud, my books got water poured on them, things like that. The orphanage had some classes too, so we weren't all stupid kids. I wasn't the smartest kid there, but I was probably the nicest. Even the smartest kid there used to beat me up. I always had a black eye, so when people came to adopt they never chose me, because I either looked like I got into lots of fights or I was a wimp. The bullying got worse as I grew older and I distanced myself from the others more and more. I never fought back, though. I doubt you can even fathom how glad I was when I finally reached sixteen and I left that place. That's when I moved into the bedroom of a farmer house of side of Brussels."

"Tell me about the farm?" Haddock enquired. He was very curious about Tintin's past, as he didn't speak of it often, if at all. Tintin shook his head, turning his gaze skyward once again.

"Maybe some other time."


	3. Chapter 3- Tintin's Past (2)

Tintin sat down at the dinner table with his plate, stacked with mash potato, peas, corn, and roast beef. Haddock sat across from him, watching the young boy cut his beef into little neat squares.

"Why do you do that, lad?" Haddock asked, raising an eyebrow at Tintin's odd habit. Tintin looked up from his meal. "You mean cutting up my beef? I'm not sure. It's something I picked up while I was living on a farm." He replied casually. Haddock leaned forward a little, remembering the other night when Tintin said he would tell him about the farm another time.

"Could you tell me about the farm now?"

"I suppose." Tintin set down his cutlery and rested his hands in his lap. "Hmm, where to start… After I left the orphanage, I obviously needed somewhere to live. I saw an advertisement in town that said a farmhouse was in need of a worker. The worker would get paid, and there was a spare bedroom in the farmhouse if it was needed. So I went to see them. The farmer thought I looked too weedy and weak, but his wife saw vigour in my young eyes, and courage in my heart. She convinced her husband to let me work for him. I was given the room and my first job, which was out in the garden. I pulled potatoes for weeks on end, with barely any breaks although I was offered many. I was determined to show the farmer that I was a hard worker. I didn't ask for much money, and what I got I saved up. I was fed by the wife, and taught things about farm life by the farmer. One night, the farm was targeted by three burglars. The farmer, old and not much of a fighter, was overpowered easily. This was my first fight. I had no idea what I was doing, but I didn't want the people who I had begun to consider a family to be injured. I found inside me a strength I didn't know existed. The muscle I had gained from farm work, paired with my built up anger from years of bullying, was an almost lethal weapon. Once the burglars were pacified, the farmer rang the police. It turned out that the three burglars were people the police had been after for years. They were notorious, dangerous men, and I, and seventeen year old, had bested them. I was a considered a hero. I was paid a large sum of money, and so I moved out to my Labrador street apartment."

"What happened next?"

"Another time, Captain. I want to eat my dinner."


	4. Chapter 4- Tintin's Past (3)

Tintin finished dusting the mantelpiece. He straightened up a photo of him and the captain, and made his way to the storage cupboard to return the duster. However, on his way there, he was intercepted by Haddock.

"It's been a week, and I want to know what happened after you left the farm." He said very bluntly. Tintin put his hands on his hips and frowned at Haddock. "You know, I've never told anyone this much about my past. You're a very lucky person to know so much about me. I suppose it won't hurt to tell you the rest of my story."

Haddock clapped a little. He felt like a very important person, having Tintin tell him all that he had told him.

"I moved into my Labrador Street apartment, and started looking for work. I was made an intern at Le Petit Vingtième, since they had heard of my heroic deed months back. I worked my way up with hard work and my large vocabulary and observation skills. One stormy and wet night, as I was walking home, I stumbled upon a box in the street, with an umbrella over it. I made my way over to it, and was shocked and disgusted at what I found inside. A single white puppy, thin and shivering. I picked up him gently, tucking him away in my coat. I then took the umbrella, for I didn't have one at the time, and walked home. I dried and fed the puppy, and I named it Milou. And now, here I am. Living in Marlinspike Hall with my best friend, and trying to put away a duster."

Tintin sidestepped Haddock, who stood grinning in the hallway. He felt satisfied now that he knew Tintin's story- _satisfied enough for a drink, I believe!_


End file.
